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|    rec.music.dylan    |    Dylan's great, if you can understand him    |    103,360 messages    |
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|    Message 102,018 of 103,360    |
|    Willie to Willie    |
|    Re: Talmudic roots of "Idiot Wind"? (1/2    |
|    01 Feb 22 10:46:16    |
      From: williamgwilliams@gmail.com              On Tuesday, February 1, 2022 at 1:44:22 PM UTC-5, Willie wrote:       > On Tuesday, February 1, 2022 at 1:20:22 PM UTC-5, Willie wrote:       > > On Monday, January 31, 2022 at 4:15:12 PM UTC-5, K. Hematite wrote:        > > > Dylan’s mysterious 1975 masterpiece, is he referencing the Talmud?        > > > Seth Rogovoy, The Forward        > > > January 31, 2022        > > >        > > > Inspired in part by all the Jewish artists on Rolling Stone’s list of       the 500 Greatest Songs, the Forward decided it was time to rank the best       Jewish pop songs of all time. You can find the whole list and accompanying       essays here.        > > >        > > > There are dozens if not hundreds of Bob Dylan songs that could be       considered “Jewish” in one manner or another. Indeed, you could write a       book. (I know because I did.) The most obvious ones include “Highway 61       Revisited,” the top vote-       getter on our list of the Great Jewish Songs of the Rock Era; “All Along the       Watchtower,” whose imagery comes right of Isaiah; and “Wheels on Fire,”       a kind of midrash on Ezekiel’s vision of the chariot.        > > >        > > > Scratch just below the surface, and there is Jewish and/or Biblical       content in “Jokerman,” “I and I,” “Forever Young,” “Tombstone       Blues,” “Not Dark Yet,” “Tryin’ to Get to Heaven,” and even a       trifle like “Man Gave Names        to All the Animals,” to name just a handful.        > > >        > > > One of Dylan’s greatest songs is also my all-time favorite. “Idiot       Wind” was a cornerstone of Dylan’s 1975 masterpiece, “Blood on the       Tracks,” a searing, devastating examination of an American landscape riven       by war (Saigon fell within        weeks of the album’s release) and governmental corruption (Nixon had       resigned just a few months earlier), as well as a highly personal expression       of lost love (“Blood on the Tracks” is often called Dylan’s “divorce       album” and his son Jakob        has said listening to it is like eavesdropping on his parents’ painful       conversations from that time) and rage against critics, the media (the song       opens, “Someone’s got it in for me / They’re planting stories in the       press”), and all those who        had “double-crossed” him along the way.        > > >        > > > Some of the song’s imagery is Jewish – the “smoke pourin’ out of       a boxcar door” could be a reference to the trains carrying Jews to the death       camps – and some is Christian – “There’s a lone soldier on the       cross” – and some        combines both: “The priest wore black on the seventh day and sat stone-faced       while the building burned.” Dylan’s sense of martyrdom infuses every line       he sneers – and he does not merely sing “Idiot Wind,” he veritably       sneers it: “You hurt        the ones that I love best and cover up the truth with lies….”        > > >        > > > The essential lines of the song appear in the refrain, which rolls       around after every two verses, four times in all. Each time the lyrics change       slightly, but what remains the same (with one exception) throughout is:       “Idiot wind, blowing every        time you move your teeth / You’re an idiot babe / It’s a wonder that you       still know how to breathe.”        > > >        > > > Now, clearly, one could rip the song and songwriter to shreds over a       strain of misogyny that runs through the song, if one believes that the       “you” of the song is a woman. But that’s not entirely clear, and in the       song’s final couplet, the        narrator implicates himself (and the listener) in this vicious indictment:       “We’re idiots, babe / It’s a wonder we can even feed ourselves.”        > > >        > > > What always interested me most about the song was the term “idiot       wind.” Where did that come from? Was it a term used in literature or poetry?       Not as far as I could determine. I once had the great privilege of having       dinner with renowned        literary scholar Christopher Ricks, whose writings on John Donne and John       Keats are as canonical as his terrific book on Dylan’s poetry, “Dylan’s       Visions of Sin.” I asked Ricks if he knew of any literary precedent for this       odd, idiomatic        expression. He knew of none.        > > >        > > > Which is why I was startled when I stumbled upon a phrase from the       Talmud (Tractate Sotah 3a) attributed to Reysh Lakish: “Eyn adam over aveyre       ela im keyn nikhnas bo ruach shtus” [emphasis mine]. This translates       approximately to: “No one        commits a sin unless the wind of idiocy enters into him.” The ruach shtus is       the breath or wind of idiocy. Dylan relies on both meanings of ruach: “Idiot       wind, it’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe.” The use of the       term implies an        equation between idiocy (or madness) and sin — that the acts of stupidity       delineated in the song can only be explained as the wages of sin. Dylan’s       use of the central image of wind also happens to echo an earlier anthem that       addressed sin and idiocy         the kind that was “blowin’ in the wind.”        > > >        > > > In what felt back then like Dylan’s version of a State of the Union       address, he sang, “Now everything’s a little upside down, as a matter of       fact the wheels have stopped / What’s good is bad, what’s bad is good,       you’ll find out when you        reach the top / You’re on the bottom.” Nearly fifty years on, with the       foundations of our democracy being shaken to their core and a respiratory       virus threatening our health and well-being, it’s still, unfortunately, “a       wonder that [we] still        know how to breathe.” The diagnosis? Ruach shtus. Idiot wind.        > > >        > > > Seth Rogovoy is a contributing editor at the Forward and the author of       “Bob Dylan: Prophet Mystic Poet” (Scribner).        > > Great find, Seth, that Talmud passage: “No one commits a sin unless the       wind of idiocy enters into him.” (And thanks, K, for "forwarding.")        > >        > > I still, though, can't get into the song. It's so churlish. And when he       starts out with "They say I shot a man named Gray /        > > And took his wife to Italy" I think, what is he talking about? Is he just       saying, "They'll say anything about me, however groundless"? Or is there some       significance in the name "Gray"? But if so, why "I can't help it if I'm       lucky"? I think that first        verse needs reworking.        > >               [continued in next message]              --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05        * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)    |
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